Free Dancing With the Devil by Katie Davis Page B

trash can next to her dresser and let the ribbon unwind off her hand. The medal dangled from its leash, swinging slowly, like a pendulum on an old clock. Time to move on, it seemed to say. She dropped it, satisfied by the loud clunk it made.

Chapter Nine
    The next day, as Mackenzie sat in her usual spot at lunch, Frankie walked by, and Mac caught her eye.
    â€œThanks, Frankie,” Mac said, tapping an envelope that sat on the table. It had a logo of a bike-riding knight in shining armor. “Want to sit?”
    Frankie shrugged and put her backpack on the seat.
    â€œThanks for trying to make me feel better. I just needed time, I guess.”
    â€œThat, and an almost $8,000 bike,” Frankie commented, looking at the opened envelope.
    â€œWell, with my pro discount it’ll only be an approximately $4,500 bike.”
    Frankie smiled as she eyed Mac’s lunch of four plain turkey slices, dry salad, and bottled water. “Looks like you’re back. Not that I missed your freak sticks,” she said, nodding at Mackenzie’s chopsticks.
    â€œWell, I do need some damage control if I want to make it to Vermont and back, don’t I?” she said, pulling a ream of paper out of the envelope. “You’ve got to see this! You want to help me build it up after school? It’s at the shop.”
    Frankie rolled her eyes. “You are so beyond. How do you think I got that in the first place?” She picked up the specs. “Oh man, nice. You were so right to get Campy components … sweet.”
    â€œCampy sucks.”
    Both girls turned to see Charlie drop his tray on the table and grab up the spec sheet.
    â€œNo one asked you,” Frankie said, snatching it back and waving goodbye to him. “See ya.”
    Charlie took the sheet back and sat. “This isn’t a private table.” Turning to Mac, he asked, “You saved for six years and you wasted your bucks on Campy, Skater?”
    Mackenzie grabbed back the specs and said, “Shimano’s more disposable. I didn’t want something that light.”
    Charlie scoffed and snatched them again, holding the packet of pages above his head. “You’re insane. Shimano’s so nice because it’s light. You’re spending that kind of cake and you got stuck with that old world crap.”
    Dante dropped his tray on the table and sat down next to Mac.
    â€œDude, don’t you know what the pro mechanics call Shimano?” Frankie asked.
    Dante sang out, “Shit, man, NO!”
    Frankie smiled and said slowly, as though speaking to a small child or an idiot, “Because of the cheap construction and the fact that most pro teams avoid it at all costs. Besides, how does anyone with hands smaller than a shovel reach those Shimano levers? The handlebars are freakin’ huge .”
    â€œWhat’s this, Charlie?” Dante said, eyeing a huge black and blue mark on his stomach where his shirt rode up. He poked it with his finger, making him flinch and lower his arms. “You are such a spaz. If you can’t clear the logs, why don’t you just stick to the road?”
    â€œYeah,” Frankie said. “Where the real riders are, anyway?”
    As he and Frankie got up to leave, Dante playfully smacked Charlie’s back, then, as Charlie actually winced, said, “I do not know why you put yourself through those baby heads, baby boy.”
    â€œAt least I’ll be in better shape than you,” Charlie said as he tossed the specs to Mac. He tugged the bottom of his shirt and held it down. Turning to Mac, he said, “You’re just a Euro snob. If I had the money, I’d get Shimano with those Mavic Arsis wheels. Those carbon spokes make it so high-end and sexy…” Looking at Mackenzie’s lunch, he added, “So does this mean you’re not going to sell me your bike?”
    â€œYou have no soul, Charlie,” Frankie said as she got up from the table,